suicidal but a meme idol

Where Ever You Will Go

It seemed like yesterday that everything seemed fine, that all was well inside the cave of my sanity. Through hell, it looked a little brighter. Lately, I've been wandering around inside my mind hoping to meet an old friend: a memory, a voice. I want to tell it/her that when I'm gone it will need love, and that my arms are open for their embrace. I want to light the shadows on their face once again, stare into there oval eyes and see the contradicting light that I had missed for so long. It came to different forms, but either all, it was the thing that truly depicted my true nature. I'd want to fall for their f=charms, their enchantments again to feel like I am not broken, but that I am whole once again. Although the plate may have cracked, it you find the pieces again, you might, if you're lucky have the same plate you had. Although is it worth it? Repairing a broken plate when it would be easier to just get a new one? Yes. I'd fix it, because although that plate is shattered into an oblivion, it holds the memories that can never be shared. Although damaged, it gives the soon whole broken plate a new identity, a new form, a new persona. It characterises and personifies the once broken object to be useful once again. I don't think, without the memories, the voices I could make it on my own. And if I could, and I would, I would follow wherever it would go. To the heavens to the gates of hell, I will follow you through the darkness, the light, the mist, the fog, the run, the thunder, the shine, the smoke, the waves, the hurricanes, the tornadoes, the fires, the wind, the sea, for it is you I believe. I hope, and pray that I'll make it back to you some day, to watch you and guide you through the darkest of your- our days. The rain might fall heavier and the sun might burn brighter, but if getting heatstroke and hypothermia is the consequence, then I'd do it in a heart beat. I hope, and I know that there is someone out there, deep inside the voices and memories of my mind that can bring me back to you. It has been so long since I've heard your voice, that another has replaced it, and to be frank: it's scarier. So come back to me, please. I'll go wherever you will go, even if it cost my life. As for this voice, it's darker than you, more contradicting than you and it terrifies my more than words describe. Please Amara, come home.